


Quiet Together

by useyourlove



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourlove/pseuds/useyourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons is tired of tears and decides to do something about it. Written after S2E6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Together

**Author's Note:**

> There's no new ep this week and I needed to get this out like woah. Half wishful catharsis, half meta.

Simmons couldn't take it anymore. It was either find a corner to curl up in and have a good cry or do something about it. And she was fairly certain the rest of them were tired of pretending they didn't know what was happening when she did that.

So she did something about it.

Her feet carried her to Fitz's bunk before she quite knew where she was going and she paused at the open door, the back of his head just visible where he rested, curled in a ball, hand on his shoulder. She considered knocking but then he'd see her, and he'd get all flustered and horrid and spiral. And then she'd have to go find somewhere to rest, to let the tattered shreds of her emotions stop unraveling long enough to gather her strength and come back.

He was broken, he kept saying. Broken, yes, that was a good word for the sharp, stinging hurt. But the places he was broken were the places where they used to be attached and she shredded herself on his jagged edges effortlessly.

She untied her boots, dropped them silently inside his door. Was he mumbling to himself? Lord, about what? Coulson hadn't told her he'd started doing that. No matter--he wouldn't hear her then. She padded to him, pulling up the cover quickly so she could catch him before he startled, and settled herself in behind him.

"Jemma--?" his whole body went stiff, as if bracing against a blow.

"Shh," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing him earnestly, her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. "Shh, don't... don't say anything Fitz. Let's just be here for a moment, all right?" She felt her throat tightening on the words and nuzzled against him. That cardigan--she had one just like it somewhere. She'd left it all behind when she went into Hydra. A new start, the Director had said. If she had to be away she could try to take her mind off of it. It's hard to turn up to breakfast like twins if there are a million miles between you. Would he be angrier or calmer if she got out her ties and plaid again? Would his agitation with himself increase or decrease?

And that's what it was, she knew, lying there breathing in the scent of him. He still smelled exactly the same. Tears pricked her eyes. He was agitated with himself. No matter what she did, no matter how she acted, her presence made him try to be how he was before. And when that didn't work, he turned on himself--he put words in her mouth. He made up excuses--everything revolved around her. She wondered if there wasn't a voice in his head that sounded just like her, telling him how useless he was. She had never in her life even thought those words.

Very softly--he might not have even noticed--she planted a kiss against his back and settled herself in.

He noticed. How could he not? She snaked her left arm beneath him, waiting while he lifted himself ever so slightly so she could. She wrapped that around him too, even knowing it would shortly go numb from his weight resting on it. Simmons let her left hand rest against his right shoulder, her arm across his chest. She could hear his heartbeat speed up beneath her ear.

As if dazed (where was he, in his mind?) he brought his hand back up to cover hers, fingers warm.

She was crying then, the tears hot against her cheeks, leaving cold trails in their wake. She drew a sharp breath.

"Don't cry," he said, voice tender.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm sorry." Sorry for crying. Sorry for so many things she left unspoken. Sorry she couldn't save him. Sorry she couldn't fix him. Sorry she couldn't be what he needed her to be. Sorry every word was a pin prick--an onslaught of tiny needle sticks against his fragile skin. Sorry for crying when she wasn't the one who was injured. But, that's not to say she wasn't hurt. Fitz wasn't the only one who felt as if part of himself had been ripped away, out of reach forever. She found herself desperately reaching for him, even in quiet moments alone. She yearned for his presence, missed their rapport. She had done best away when she had numbed herself to everything but her daily duties. Like she'd done all through school. Like she'd done until she'd met Fitz, in fact. She didn't want to regress back into that scared, quiet little girl. She hadn't been her for a long time.

"It's... I'm sorry, too," he said. "I can't be what you want me to be."

"No, shh, no. Don't talk, Fitz. I don't want you to be anyone but yourself." Perhaps he would believe it if she held him so close. But why? He hadn't believed it any other way.

"I--"

She squeezed, and that stopped the words.

* * *

"Where's Simmons?" Coulson said, gathering momentum as he walked. "We need her on this."

"I'll get her," May said, peeling off to go about setting up the mission.

"No," he stopped her. "I need to check with Skye in the lab. You get everything you need."

"Yes sir," she said and headed away.

Coulson ducked into the lab, finding no one but the techs. Odd.

"Simmons?" he called. No reply. "Skye?"

Perhaps they were getting lunch, though mid-afternoon was a strange time for that. Things weren't adding up.

He found Skye with her feet on the table, trolling Reddit. Tripp sat in the corner, cleaning a handgun. Mack was running through inventory lists on his clipboard. They all looked suspiciously alert, as if they were standing guard over something. Both of Skye's shoes were flat on the floor the second she saw Coulson round the corner.

"Hey, Director."

"Have you seen Simmons? We've got reports coming in--"

"Can it wait?" Skye said.

"'Can it _wait_?' Time is a factor here. We need every--"

Skye took his hand, leading him down the short hall to the bunks. They stopped just outside of Fitz's door. Skye put a finger to her lips, then tilted her head for him to look.

There was Simmons wrapped around Fitz, the two of them huddled together like two abandoned kittens in a cardboard box. Both were quieter than he'd ever seen them. Even when he'd first met them. But quiet, these days, was a good thing. Quiet meant no one was crying.

"Yes," Coulson said. "It can wait."


End file.
